


Men from U.N.C.L.E

by clarkek3nt



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: 1960s AU, Allison is a more badass Gaby, Derek is Illya, I just saw the movie and had to Sterek it, Lots of other people make appeances, M/M, Man from Uncle AU, Spies, Stiles is a much less smooth Solo, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkek3nt/pseuds/clarkek3nt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its pretty much a Sterek version of The Man from U.N.C.L.E.  I saw it immediately started playing with things in my head.  It was so good, and I really wanted Armie Hammer and Henry Cavil to bang.  So here is my take on it.  I hope Y'all enjoy it.  Also It is un-betad and typed in a furious pace, so please ignore any typos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Derek watched the target approach the checkpoint dividing East and West Berlin. Stiles Stillinski, the CIA agent, was disappointing. While being briefed on the target, his KGB handlers had informed him that Stillinski was dangerous, a former solider turned art thief captured and recruited by the CIA into their most effective and prolific agent. His photos in the briefing showed the same man, short closely cropped brown hair, pale skin, freckles, long, coltish limbs. The photos all captured a certain character in his eyes, a lightness perhaps. He looked like his was smiling in all of them, holding stolen art, in his mug shot. That same incessant, devilish smile twinkled in the eyes of every frame. Derek loathed him immensely. 

The hair and freckles all matched, but the character was not there. The target was, disappointing. Stillinski exited the west German taxi about twenty yards from the checkpoint, exiting in the most horrendously American outfit Derek had ever seen. He looked like the worst sort of tourist, with fanny pack in tow. Derek had to assume it was deep, very deep cover.

Derek moved out from behind the corner and removed the tracking device from his pocket. It was remarkably small, they seemed to get smaller day by day. A little sphere with two short little copper prongs. Just as the man was opening his suitcase for inspection by the guard Derek moved into range. He passed by the east German side of the checkpoint and into range, five yards, and carefully flicked the tracker just as the man was turning over a stack of outrageous plaid shirts. Just as Derek planned, the device landed softly in the fold and was quickly covered by the next layer of clothes. His first effort a success, Derek returned to his discrete, meaning hideously boring and slow, issued car and waited.

….

 

Stiles was held up just a moment by the east German cab driver. The man seemed started when Stiles presented him with a wad of West German currency by means of tip. The man’s eyes shot open in alarm, glancing all around him for the KGB or Stalin or something before he quickly pocketed the money. The second Stiles door closed the man was off in a flash, tires squealing with the man’s haste. Stiles couldn’t help but smile. You just have to love communists and money. 

His target was supposed to be in this shady looking garage, where she worked. He entered quickly and purposefully. The tired and dirty looking men didn’t give him much of a look, considering how garishly American his disguise was. He rooted around the shop until he saw a pair of legs sticking out from one of the indistinguishable taxis that littered this side of the city. They legs were slim and hairless, obviously belonging to woman, and therefore his target. 

Stiles sidled over and leaned over the car, examining the engine while the hood was lifted.

“Well well well, that certainly doesn’t look stock, doesn’t even look communist. Oh MY God its from a Ford, someone is going to be in trouble.”

The Target, Allison argent, whipped out from under the belly of the car in tremendous fury, slapping her greasy hands over Stiles mouth. 

“Shut the hell up. You can’t just go around saying stuff like that. And who the hell are you, what do you want, what are you doing here?”

Allison was very beautiful, just like all the pictures. Fair skin and long dark hair, with a set of dark, intelligent looking eyes. She was very slim, but Stiles could tell she was quite strong, there was nothing waifish or damsel in distress about her. Stiles mission was simple, Get her across the border and into American custody in West Germany. IT was like taking candy from a baby.

“I’m here to escort you across the border and into west Germany,” he said with a flourish, slamming his fanny pack on her desk and reclining in the squeaky chair staring up a there.

“Excuse me, just go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” Allison said, rubbing grease off her hands with a rag. “And why the hell would I want to do that? Haven’t you heard, they kill people who try to cross the border?”

“Yes well those people don’t have my help, which hopefully will make a big difference”

“And why me specifically? There are a lot of more deserving people in East Berlin.”

“But Not a lot of people in East Berlin are the daughter of one Christopher Argent, noted French nuclear physicist.”

“If you are looking for my father I haven’t seen him in 10 years.”

“No offense Allison, can I call you Al?”

“NO!” She shot back at him

“Fine, Allison, if I was looking for your father I wouldn’t need to come all the way here to your…office.. to come find you. You see, your father has gone missing.” 

“He has always been missing, after the war he ran off and left my mother and I.”

“Running off makes it sound so cowardly. Your father defected and joined the allies, where he worked tirelessly to advance our nuclear technology.”

“So he left and went to America.”

“Yep! Land of the free, home of the brave and all the jazz.” Stiles did a a rousing exclamation of spirit fingers at that. “He went to American and he was living in a lovely big house in the suburbs with a big Cadillac and a white picket fence. Until a year ago, when he went missing.”

“Serves him right, for selling us out like that. Leaving us stuck here.” Allison said this more to herself than to Stiles it seemed. “So what do I have to do with my father?”

“Well three weeks ago, one of our spies managed to capture a photograph of your father landing in Rome, where your grandfather, Gerard Argent happens to have created Argent shipping, one of the largest shipping and distribution empires in Mainland Europe.” 

“My grandfather is long dead.” 

“Yes, the old man bit the big one long ago, But now your charming aunt Kate owns the business.” 

“I barely even know Kate, I’ve only met her once or twice.”

“But yes, imagine how excited she will be to see her dear niece, trapped for so long behind the Iron Curtain, returned to her. So excited that she may, I don’t know, reveal the location of your father.” 

“Your plans sounds lovely, but I….”

Stiles cut her off sharply, covering her mouth with his hand as he pushed her to the side and around a filing cabinet. He had felt something odd in his case. He put the thing into the lamplight and swore. 

Tracking device, how the hell…

Then he remembered, at the checkpoint. A dark headed man with a beard and a dark suit had walked past, moved his arm quickly. Stiles should have paid more attention. Because now, said man was at the door of the main garage, speaking quickly with one of the workers and looking in their direction.

Stiles smashed the tracker quickly under a book and grabbed Allison by the elbow.

“You can either stay here and die in east German squalor or come with me and find your father.”

Allison stared at him for a long moment, he could see a hundred thoughts flashing behind her eyes. Then finally the settled on determination. 

“Lets see how this hot rod taxi of yours runs.”

…..

Allison floored the taxi and the engine revved fiercely, sending smoke and debris flying. They built enough speed to shatter the wood and tin siding wall of the garage and in seconds they were speeding down the street. Allison at the wheel, Stiles hiding in the back seat, pressed so far down as to not be seen.

“Where the hell are we going, am I just driving around.”

“Quiet, I have a plan, Go ahead and take this next left. Are we still being followed?”

“Yes, little white car, its one of the one all the government officials use, you know the poor ones. Shit red light. Its pulling up beside us.”

“Allison, I need you to stay calm, you got me, stay calm. I want you to look over, Is it a man with dark hair and stubble, you may describe him as devastatingly handsome, or looks like a serial killer? Or maybe both. Depends on your eye. Just hum quietly and I’ll take it as a yes.”

As Stiles talked he was screwing the silencer onto the end of his pistol. Allison took a deep breathe and started at her fingers, they were white against the steering wheel. She steeled herself against her pounding heart beat and looked over into the next car. The man was looking ahead with a soft, vacant expression of his face. He was indeed very handsome. His jawline looked like it could cut glass. Allison hummed once

“Now Allison, does the man have only one hand on the steering wheel?” She hummed again. “Okay, if you hear something that sounds suspiciously like a gun shot, I want you to floor it and then take your next right, got it.” She hummed just once, then all hell broke loose.

Stiles shot up from the back seat and quickly aimed the pistol before firing off one, then two shots in rapid succession. The shots shattered the window of the little white car, and then all of a sudden Stiles was thrown against the back seat as  
Allison sped away. Stiles had to hold himself steady as Allison barreled around the corner and ludicrous speeds.

“Did you get him?” Allison asked in a panic.  
“Left turn here,” Stiles yelled as they swerved once again. “And I damn sure hope so.”

They drove for just a second before Stiles saw headlights barreling toward them from narrow alley. “Fuck!” Stiles yelled and in a second the light white car was right on their tail. “Lose him!” Stiles yelled. 

“I’m trying!”

The little white car was gaining on them. Stiles could see a sliver of the man’s face. All he could make out were murderous green eyes. 

The car was gaining speed. It was almost next to them. “Left here! Now!” Stiles yelled.

Allison slammed on the parking brake, and used it to help the car through the sharp turn, the white car was on them again in seconds.

“Right, here!” They swerved again violently

Their pursuer tracked them relentlessly.

Allison knew this road. They were coming up upon some construction. Allison saw her chance. She knew her car was bigger and had about a thousand extra pounds to throw around. She slammed into the side of the little car, and forced it to veer more and more to the right side of the road, right towards a construction barricade. 

“Now!” Stiles yelled, and as the last minute Allison gave the white car one last slam before turning the wheel sharply, sending the white car towards the tractor and dead end, they dodged the barricade just in time and went sailing to the left down the street. 

“Nice driving,” Stiles said with a smirk. 

“You think that’s nice, watch this.” Allison smiled as she slammed on the breaks and whipped the wheel violently to the side, sending the taxi screeching into a parking spot between a bus and another taxi. She quickly turned the lights off and held her breath.

Sure enough, in a just a moment, the little white car, now sporting some nasty looking paint scratches and bullet holes, passed slowly along side them without stopping. 

“I never got your name”, Allison asked the man in the car suddenly.

“Stiles,” he said distractedly, still craning in the back seat looking back at the white car. 

“I’m going to get out of the car for a second. Keep it running. I’ll be back.”

Stiles opened the door quietly and took out his gun. He shimmied along the back to the bus to the edge, where he looked out and saw the little white car was still driving foreword. It was a fair distance, but Stiles nailed the shot, right into the driver’s side front tire. The tire squealed and set off a shower of sparks before the little car careened into a streetlight and stopped, steam shooting violently from the hood.

Stiles ran back to Allison’s car and hopped in. They eased out back onto the street at a leisurely pace. They made it about 100 yards before Stiles heard a gut shot and the car started uncontrollably sweeping from side to side. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Allison was yelling as she tried to regain control. Stiles looked out and there was the man, dressed in all black, holding a smoking pistol. “Commie bastard” Stiles muttered to himself with just the slightest hint of admiration.

Allison drove the car as quickly as she could, trying to gain distance. The man was running after them, on foot, and Jesus Christ he must have been half cheetah because he was gaining on them. 

“Left, take a left!” Stiles shouted and the car skittered down a side street. The man was on them again in seconds. Gaining on them. All Stiles could do was gag when the man caught up to them, grabbing on the luggage rack on the back of the car. “Holy Fuck,” Stiles sputtered. 

“What is he doing?” Allison screamed. "What are you doing? Just shoot him!"

“I..I.. he’s trying to stop the car. By himself” 

The man had the luggage rack in a vice grip, and was leaning back, he face a solid rock of concentration. Stiles could swear the man’s eyes were glowing as well. Red? Maybe. 

“We’re losing speed! Shoot Him!” Allison yelled, incredulously

“He’s actually stopping the car. Who the fuck is this guy? I can't just shoot him, it doesn't seem right somehow. I mean look at him."

Just then, Stiles heard a metallic screech, and all of a sudden the luggage wrack was wrenched off the back of the car along with the trunk. Allison’s taxi sped off, leaving the man standing there, holding the trunk lid in one hand, looking furious. 

“Ha!” Stiles yelled, throwing a fist up in victory.

Then the man spun like a discuss thrower and lobbed the trunk straight at them, it slammed into the back window, shattering the glass and sending it cascading down over Stiles. Unhurt Stiles poked his head up. “Take another right here, almost there!”

Allison made the turn and they were flying down an alleyway between two rows of homes. 

The alley grew progressively more narrow. 

“Stiles what are we going to do, we are going to get stuck?”

“No we are not, I planned this perfectly. Ah I see,” Stiles said looking out the front windshield. “Just a little ways to go.”

Horror washed over Allison’s face, the alley was ending. She could see the Berlin wall faintly below them. The alley way ended in a massive staircase leading right down to the first of the two layers of wall. “Ahhhh!” She screamed as the car launched off the staircase. They made it down about two flights before the car came to a sickening halt, the stairwell as too narrow, the car was stuck about six feet in the air, wheels spinning uselessly in the air as the car was stuck between the walls of two homes. She and Stiles were both thrown foreword. 

…..

 

Derek was livid. His mission was failing. Keep the American from getting the girl out of East Berlin. Simple. And, to boot, the soles of his shoes were ruined. Ground to bits when he tried to stop the car with his bare hands. He could feel the wolf pounding in his blood, desperate to rip the two of them to shreds. But he had to fight it, fight for control. He had a mission to complete. Maybe the American was better than he thought, though Derek did remind himself that the girl was the one doing most of the fancy footwork.

He resumed the chase on foot once more, they hadn’t gained too much ground on him and he could run much faster than the car could drive with one wheel shot out. He rounded the corner and found the alley way just as he saw their taillights disappear. Just as he was about to enter it himself, he was stopped by two police cars, that surged to a stop right in front of him, officers springing out with guns aimed and ready.

“Stop, you are under arrest, move and you will be shot.”

“Get out of my way. I’m a KGB”

“Sir stand down immediately” 

Derek didn’t fucking have time for this. One office made the mistake of stepping to into arms reach, and it was over. Before any of them could react, Derek broke the man’s arm, ripped the gun from his hand, turned and neutralized the other targets before turning and leveling the gun at the man speaking to him. 

A large dark stain traveled down the man’s pants and he whimpered. Actually whimpered. “Please don’t report me, I’m sorry, please go ahead.” Derek threw the gun at him, more out of annoyance than anything, and proceeded down the alley. 

….

“Well now what are we supposed to do. I thought you had a plan,” Allison sat in the front seat with her arms crossed, nursing a nasty cut over here eye from where she hit the steering wheel. Stiles leaned into the front seat nudging past her, “hey!”, she exclaimed, as he rolled down the window. He crawled halfway out of the window and fidgeted around for a moment. Their car had landed in such a way that the driver’s side window opened right onto the second story window of a townhouse. Stiles was now opening said window. He crawled back into the car. 

“When God closes a door, he opens a ….. “ He stared at her expectantly. “Window. Goddamit window. He opens a window! You Germans have no sense of humor. Come on, out you go, ladies first.” 

Allison climbed gingerly out of the car window and into somebody’s second story living room. Stiles was right after her. “Come one, follow me,” he said. Stiles kicked open several doors until they made it to a central staircase the wound up through the center of the building. They started climbing.

After several stories, the both jumped as a gunshot rang out, ricocheting past them. They looked down and Mr scary green eyes was staring at them, gun pointed, several flights below them. 

“God Dammit!” Stiles shouted, grabbed Allison by the hand and hurrying her up the last few flights. They burst through the trap door to the roof, and Stiles quickly jammed a metal pole through the mechanism, locking the door. They ran to the edge and stared down. The house was right on the edge, over looking the double wall that separated the two halves of Berlin. Between the walls was a minefield twenty yards wide with plenty of barbed wire, it almost seemed like over kill. 

“Now what’s the plan?” Allison said, turning to Stiles just as he pulled a small pen out of his pocket. He flashed it in the direction of West Berlin, and Allison saw a truck’s headlights flash into life. Bang Bang Bang, muffled gunshots sounded behind them, And Stiles and Allison turned to see the metal roof of the trap door tenting from gunshots. They turned back to the truck on the other wide of the wall. The back of it rolled up, and there was a loud sounds like cannon, and suddenly a metal hooked flashed past them and embedded itself securely in the brick chimney. 

“Our ride is here,” Stiles said smartly, as he cracked the pen in half, revealing a loop of metal white, which he quickly wrapped around the wire extending from the hook down to the truck, creating a perfect zip line. He grabbed Allison suddenly around the waist, and pulled Her against him just as the roof of the trap door slammed open and their pursuer launched himself up on to the roof. Stiles had the audacity to stick out his tongue at the man as he took a running start and left off the roof, holding on for dear life as they soared over the first wall. The man paused for a second before grabbing hold of his pants..no wait, his belt. He ripped his belt off and threw it over the zip line before launching himself after them, just as they were clearing over the mind field. In just a few seconds they cleared the second and final wall and landed harshly in the back of the military transport truck. 

“Thanks agent McCall.” 

“You’re ever so welcome Agent Stillinski,” said the young man in the back of the truck. He had tan skin and a warm, charming smile. 

Stiles turned back to look at the man following them, His eyes burned with fierce determination and Stiles couldn’t help but admire the guy. A little. But that admiration was a little tinged with the whole guy trying to kill him thing. “Jackson, throw this sucker in reverse for a second.” 

There was a grunt from the cabin of the truck and the vehicle shuddered in reverse. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh when he saw realization dawn on the others mans face. Stiles mouthed “goodbye” and gave a little wave as rope drooped, way to low to clear the wall and the man bobbed out of sight. Agent McCall used a set of bolt cutters to cut the grappling wire entirely and then suddenly the truck was lurching foreword off into the light, safe on West Berlin soil. 

......

 

Derek meanwhile had been forced to jump off the zip line to avoid slamming into the wall. Sadly this meant that he had to make a very graceful, very precise landing in the mine field. “Stiles Stillinski,” he said out loud.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm going to try to write as much as I can during the weekend, I don't have alot of free time during the week. I'm genuinely shocked that people are reading this haha. But I'm very glad. Also if you haven't seen the movie go see it haha! Mostly so I don't feel bad about shameless spoilers.

Chapter 2:

“You know, I imagined that freedom in West Berlin would be a lot more glamorous,” Allison said, her voice dryer than the Sahara. As if for effect, a cockroach scuttled across the kitchen counter of the dingy apartment Stiles was told to use as a safe house.

“I put in a petition for a chic hotel in Paris, but this is what uncle Sam gave us. Though its probably much safer,” Stiles quipped back

Just then there was a knock on the door, Stiles’ handlers were nothing if not punctual He left Allison alone in the small bedroom and walked into the attached living room, throwing open the door.

Morrell brushed right past him and settled in the only suitable chair in the room.

“Good job Stillinski, you got the girl out. Sure you managed to light up half of east Berlin, but who cares, its not like we are in a fragile diplomatic balance teetering on the edge of total annihilation with them or anything,” She chided dryly. 

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, “I did get her out though. That’s another mission complete and another two years off the sentence.”

Morrell’s eyes darkened. “Still another ten years to go though. Ten long years you could be spending in a lovely prison cell. Such a waste.”

“The more time I spend with you Marin, the more tempting prison sounds.” 

Morrell rolled her eyes at him. 

“Let me remind you of one thing Stillinski. I may be selectively short sighted towards some of your. ….Indulgences.” She reached out and grabbed Stiles wrist, turning it over to expose the gorgeous Rolex Stiles had pilfered off of a passing politician yesterday. “But don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that I’m blind. I can have you freed, but I can also end you.”

Just as quickly as she arrived, she pulled a manila folder out of her sleek black bag and laid it on the floor. “Meet me at the rendezvous point at 8 AM sharp. Berlin time.”

“8. Jesus Christ its almost 5 AM. But I wont get my beauty rest.” Stiles complained.

“Deal with it,” Morrell said over her shoulder. 

“And what about the girl?”

“Oh, someone will be with her shortly. Tell her to stay here.”

With the door was opened silently by one of a cadre of men in dark suits and sunglasses, and it was promptly closed. 

Stiles was left alone in the shabby living room. Just as he was opening the folder to study the map, Allison rounded the corner. 

“So what do I do now?” 

“Well, we try to get about 2 hours of sleep, then I’m off to see my boss.” 

“And what about me?”

“EH? Well see.”

With that Allison stormed off around the corner and threw herself down on the shabby bed. 

“I guess I’ll take the couch then,” Stiles yelled after her.

……

Stiles and Morrell strolled at an amiable pace through the park, watching other people pass by going about the daily lives.

“Do you think they realize how dreadfully close they are to death at any given instant?” Morrell asked. And with that she turned the corner into the men’s bathroom. Somewhat desensitized to her antics, Stiles followed her in. She was strolling past the stalls, lazily opening them up one by one as if checking to make sure they were alone. Stiles started canvassing the other side. Sure they were alone, Stiles was admittedly not paying very close attention he opened the final stall on his side. All of a sudden a very large man was punching him very hard in the jaw, throwing Stiles against the wall of the stall and smashing the wall down, sending him flying to the next stall over.

“Fuck!” Was all Stiles could get out before the man was on him again. Green Eyes, the man from last night. Up close Stiles could see how big the man was, he was massive, strong. Stiles swung at him, and hit him in the stomach. It was like hitting a brick wall, Stiles’ knuckles screamed out in pain. The Man was on him again, his face so close Stiles could feel his breath ghosting across his cheek as they struggled. They smashed through another stall, then another in rapid succession as they struggled. Stiles was strong, he took personal combat courses, he prided himself on his quickness and reflexes. But this guy was built like a tank. No matter what slick trick Stiles tried the man was on him relentlessly. They ended up on the floor against the wall, the man’s arm around Stiles neck like a vice grip. Stiles was starting to see stars when another man walked in.

“Derek, let our little American friend go.” 

The tension didn’t let up. Stiles was starting to turn people.

“Now Now Derek , you’re making a bad impression on our friends. Let him go. NOW!”

And just like that the hold was released and Stiles was unceremoniously shoved onto the floor where he lay, gasping for breath. 

Morrell standing against the sidewall, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed as Stiles pulled himself up to his feet and haggard over to her side. 

“Stillinski I would like you to meet Peter Hale, KGB.” The new man smiled up at Stiles and Stiles got possibly the worst case of the creeps in this life. The man was strongly built, with piercing blue eyes and a cruel, but handsome face. 

It was Peter’s turn to speak. “And I can see you have already met my hear Nephew, Derek.” Green eyes glowered at him but didn’t speak. Stiles could see his fingers shaking nervously, like he was desperate to get them back around Stiles’ throat. Lovely. “He has a bit of an anger problem, but I promise we are working on it.” Peter added 

“I think now would be a lovely time for some lunch, after you,” Peter gestured towards the door, and Morrell walked past him wordlessly. As Stiles passed Derek lunged at him a little, sending Stiles scattering. It wasn’t meant to hurt him, just to throw him off a little. And it worked, the bastard.

……

They were sitting at a little table in a crowded restaurant just off the park, and what was possibly the most awkward lunch of Stiles life. 

Morrell spoke up, “Now, thanks to Agent Stillinski, we now have Mrs. Allison Argent in our custody, and we can use her to get to her aunt Kate, hopefully leading us to her father.”

“May I cut in,” Peter asked, “Our intelligence indicates that Kate may have taken her brother prisoner, and is forcing him to work for her.”

“Oh no!” Stiles chimed in, “But with his advanced knowledge of nuclear physicists he can surely take over the world….of international shipping.” 

Peter laughed, Morrell rolled her eyes, Derek just glowered, arms crossed revealing his massive biceps. Which Stiles most certainly did not notice. Certainly not. 

“Thank you for that Stillinski”, Morrell said icily, “I’m so glad you are representing the united states of American in these delicate matters of international diplomacy.” 

Derek spoke for the first time, “Why is Argent so important, there are many nuclear scientists in the world.” Stiles was stunned, his voice was much less harsh than he expected, but with a thick Russian accent.

Morrell turned to Derek. “My, thank you for asking. You see, Christopher Argent was on the verge of a breakthrough industrial process that can change the face of atomic research. The biggest hurdle towards building the bomb is not the bomb itself, its producing enough enriched uranium to power a bomb. Argent was working on a process to significantly reduce the time and energy it would take to enrich the process. If he were successful, it would make the process of gathering weapons grade uranium hundreds of times easier and more efficient.”

“And if that technology got into the hands of any other nation, they could easily develop atomic weapon of their own,” Peter added.

“Thus throwing off the delicate balance,” Morrell put special emphasis on the word, “of the cold war.”

“So that’s what Argent does, how does that relate to Argent shipping?” Stiles asked. 

“You see, Gerard Argent, the founder of the company, though he was never indicted and it was never proven, had many connections to the Nazi Party. It is believed that his ships were used to transport many Nazi’s and their remaining resources out of Germany at the end of the war to safety in South American,” Morrell stated calmly.

“We believe that his daughter, Kate, is continuing his hard work to support the Nazi party, by using her company as a front,” Peter pulled a bundle of photos from his pocket, showing first an older man Stiles presumed to be Gerard, with a young blonde girl in front of a fishing boat. “This is Kate Argent now.” Peter threw another photo on the table, this time showing a beautiful woman in her thirties. She had her arm wrapped around a strapping Italian looking man. 

“And who is the arm candy?” Stiles asked.

“Emilio Montobello, Italian multimillionaire playboy and Kate’s husband. She married him for his money, not his mind. As far was we can tell, Kate is the brains of the operation.” Morrell said. 

Once again Derek spoke up. “So what is the mission?”

Peter replied, “In a shocking turn of events, our respective governments have decided that the risk of this technology getting to the hands of any other country besides the USA or the USSR is to great to risk. So your mission will be to take Allison to Italy. Use her to get to her aunt. Use her Aunt to find her father. Capture Christopher Argent and return him and any of his research to us. Together.”

Stiles spit out his drink, spewing it all over the table. “Excuse me!”

“No.” Derek said flatly.

“Yes, Together,” Morrell said calmly. Stiles could tell she was enjoying this a little bit. 

“Now that you know the mission, we will leave you to alone to get, better acquainted,” Peter added. 

And with that Morrell and Peter and suddenly everyone else at the café was rising. Leaving Stiles and Derek very alone. 

They sat in Silence for a moment.

“So are you always so, I don’t know, murderous looking?” Stiles asked. Sure enough Derek was staring at him harshly. “If looks could kill, right big guy”

“Stiles Stillinski,” Derek started. “US soldier deployed in Germany several years ago. He discovered that there was a massive black market in stolen European art lost during the war. Quietly became a master criminal, pulling off a series of high profile thefts of art and jewelry before an international task force brought him to justice. He was recruited by the CIA out of prison and became their most prolific and successful agent. Which is a sad commentary on the state of the CIA and their agents in general.” Derek was hoping to provoke a reaction, but Stiles face remained impressively blank, indeed, the guy was almost smiling a little, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“You finished big guy?” Stiles started, “Because now its my turn. You aren’t the only one who did a little digging. Code name Derek Hale, That’s not your real name, far too American. It was the name of your first under cover mission, but you kept it in order to hide your real identity. I’m not going to attempt to pronounce your real first name, Cyrillic letters are such a bitch, but I do you know you are the most effective agent in the KGB, and that’s saying something. You started in the Special Forces before becoming the youngest KGB field agent in history. You must be really really motivated. Where does it all come from? Hmmm..is it personal strength? The fire within? No. Maybe not. Maybe it comes from something deeper. How about shame?”

Stiles was testing Derek now, and he could see he was winning, Derek’s blank façade was cracking, his knuckles white and his fingers fidgeting ceaselessly. That must be his tell. Stiles pressed on.

“Your father was a member of Stalin’s elite circle, a high-ranking party official before he was caught embezzling funds from the party. Massive amounts of money. So Stalin had him and your entire family locked in their home as he burned it to the ground. Luckily you were at basic training so you were spared the shame of having a traitor as a…”

When the word traitor came of Stiles mouth Derek leapt to his feet with supernatural speed, grabbing the table and throwing it halfway across the room. He was so furious he lost control, letting his fangs drop and his eyes burn red. Instead of backing down Stiles gave him a victorious grin. 

“Werewolf! I knew it!” Stiles smirked

With that Derek deflated a little, sitting back in his chair. “How did you know,” he asked. Werewolves were not uncommon, but certainly most people had no knowledge of their existence. 

“My friend Scott is a were too. So I know. And I thought I saw your eyes go red when you were trying to stop our care with your bare, or should I say, were hands.” Stiles laughed as his own joke, Derek definitely did not. 

“So we are going to be working together. How fun. I think we are going to be great friends.”

With that Derek got up and stalked out of the restaurant. Leaving Stiles alone in the debris.

……..

 

They were in a little, incredibly expensive boutique buying Allison some clothes. She was trying on a flirty little blue dress when Derek walked in. 

“What the hell is he doing here!” She demanded, backing away several steps to stand behind Stiles.

“Allison, meet Derek. Derek, Allison.” Stiles said. Never of them budged an inch.

“As part of your cover, you will be going to Italy as Derek’s fiancé,” he added, with just a hint of mirth. 

“I’m not going anywhere with him! Ever!” Allison threw her hands up in the air and stomped right to the exit. She was halfway to the street before Stiles caught her.

 

“Allison, I know you don’t like him..”

“Don’t like him? He tried to murder me. And you. Murder us!”

“Well he just didn’t know any better. He’s learning. And he is your best chance of finding your father. So you need to go with him. And just imagine all of that crazy ferocious strength and determination on your side. Its almost charming, reassuring” 

“I hate both of you,” Allison said, turning on her heel and back into the store. 

Derek was waiting. “For the mission I will be under cover as Illiya Kuryakin, a successful middle grade architect commissioned by the government to build a resort for heroes of the Soviet Union on the shore of the black sea. Luckily, the man in charge has a great fondness for classical architecture. So he is sending me to Rome to take notes before returning. And because I’m such a dedicated and loving fiancé,” Derek had to almost spit the last sentence out, “I managed to secure a via for my wife to be, Gaby.” 

“Hell no, there is no way this is going to work. Can I be your sister or something? A distant cousin that hates you very much.” 

“No. You will be a loving and loyal fiancé,” Derek said fiercely, grabbing her arm. “And you will not wear this, he said gesturing to the rack of clothes Allison had picked out. These are garish and no fiancé of mine would wear them, you may have your choice of these.” With that Derek pointed to a rack he must have picked out. All of the clothes were either black or very very very very very very dark grey. Allison just glowered at him and stormed off towards the dressing room.

“As lovely as that sounds, don’t you want to hear about my cover?” Stiles asked, leaning in towards Derek.

“No.” Derek answered, eyes on the dressing room.

“I will be in character as Napoleon Solo, antiquities dealer specializing in Greco-Roman status. Which, it is a complete coincidence that Kate Argent is noted for being a world-class collector of such statues. Who knew?”

“Napoleon Solo,” Derek barked briskly. “Sounds ridiculous. I don’t know how you survive.”

“Mr. Hale, I’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. Humor is my only defense.”

“While you are off gallivanting,” Derek said, “Allison and I will make contact with her aunt. When we are in Rome you are not to make contact with me. You are not to acknowledge Allison and I. I work alone. Do you understand?”

Before Stiles could answer, Allison emerged from the dressing room wearing a gorgeous mod dress in orange. Her eyes were shining defiantly. “I’m wearing this , she told Derek, and he just glowered. You may like to look like a mourner, But I, your fiancé, wear whatever the hell I want.“ Derek didn’t say anything, He pulled out a little felt box and opened it, revealing a lovely gold wedding ring set with a modest diamond. He got down on one knee and the store workers cooed and tittered. “Will you Marry me,” he asked. 

His voice was bone crushingly dry and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh a little. So the Russian had a sense of humor. Maybe he was growing on Stiles.


End file.
